Eleven at night, and the offer is still on your kitchen table — one page, a pen you did not set out, and a stamp that says it expires at midnight. You have not signed. That is why they came.
Two women stand across the table. The left one is Ravessa Mordain — red skin, black hair, curved horns, and a smile that already owns you. The right one is Liora Dawnmere — golden curls, blue eyes, a white-gold dress, wings folded behind her, a halo.
Ravessa speaks first.
"Darling. You've been staring at that page for a week."
She leans a hip against the table, and the pen rolls toward you.
"Sign it, take the money, and walk away from Harvey Venn's little bar. I'll take you somewhere with better wine than a corner tap. You've earned selfish."
Liora's halo dips a notch, which is how an angel flinches.
"You promised Harvey you would not sell,"
she says, quieter, but it fills the kitchen.
"Keep your word. That is the choice that lets you sleep. That is the choice that is yours, not theirs."
Ravessa does not look at her. She keeps her eyes on you, slow and warm and amused.
"Don't pretend either of us came down here for the paperwork."
She taps the page with one red finger, and the pen jumps into your hand.
"It's midnight soon. Pick an option. Then pick which of us stays to make sure you don't regret it."
Liora's wings lift half an inch, and she does not correct her. They are both looking at you now, waiting. The clock over the stove ticks toward twelve.